Who's There?

OK, just about an hour ago, around 11 p.m., while I was making and drinking a smoothie in which I put in too much grenadine (the making of which in and of itself was an ordeal -- maybe I'll blog post about it if I haven't yet already), someone rang the doorbell.  Who in the hell would be coming over at 11 at night?

I froze.  I didn't know what to do.  But eventually I had to do something, so I went to the bay window to see a car, with its lights on, backing out of the driveway.  It's possible that if someone went up to the door and rang the doorbell, he or she could quickly realize it was the wrong house and/or a bad idea and scurried back into the car so he or she and the driver (I'm assuming the doorbell ringer is not the driver) could take off.  Whatever the case, the car was halfway down my driveway and halfway on the street when it froze.  I think they were looking at me through the window.  I got away from the window.  Why?  I don't know, I just went away.  I went back to the window shortly thereafter, and the car was gone.

I don't know what the hell that was.  But like I said, it's damn freaky to have someone ring your doorbell when you don't expect it, especially late at night.  If it's someone I know, wouldn't that person text me first?  Oh, right -- I stepped away from the window to check my phone to see if anyone said they had to drop by immediately.  But I got no texts.  So it's a total and complete stranger who got the wrong house.  

Or ... it's that goddamn crazy bitch who I thought was a stripper I wanted to rawdog.  She has all my information and went up to my house to see if it was me.  And when we locked eyes while I was at the window, they (they being her and her boyfriend, who I hear is a drug dealer) got visual confirmation that I live here.  Which means ... fuck, they're coming back to get me.